


Of Wagers and Water Balloons

by cassibill



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, DWMP-verse, F/M, Gen, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 04:22:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3796537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassibill/pseuds/cassibill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are never dull for Finweans...no matter how much their parents and spouses wish they were.  Set in LiveOakwithMoss's "Dancing with My Punchlines" universe.  I was thinking about Anaire and Fingolfin's bets on their kids could take years to pay off and this just...well...happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Wagers and Water Balloons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LiveOakWithMoss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/gifts).



Anaire looked up from the chopping board to look at her husband. Nolofinwe was sitting at the small kitchen table going over papers from work as she prepared dinner. “You're just telling me this _now?_ I don't have time to go dress shopping between now and Monday night.”

“Honey, you have nearly a week, though I don't know why you think you need a new dress for a quiet dinner out with a client. You look fantastic in anything and even better in nothing at all.” His wink and smile was a poor attempt to weasel his way back into her good graces.  _That_ wasn't happening.

“This is the last, unhurried meal I'm likely to have between now and then. Have you forgotten that we're having a vaccination clinic all this week? I'll be rushing out of here at breakfast, working through lunch, and grabbing something when I get off on my way to a game or recital every night this week.” Anaire waved the knife dangerously. 

It had long been a tradition for both them and Arafinwe and Earwen to attend events for any of the children regardless of whose. Sometimes, it made for a hectic schedule, but it was great fun for the kids (and the grown-ups).

“Well, surely you can get something Saturday morning before the softball game.” The look on his face made it clear he was loosing hope fast.

“Not unless  _you_ want to take Arko shopping for new clothes. Between his growth spurt and the way he destroys them, it's a wonder he isn't naked. I still have not figured out how he set his shirt on fire at Shabbat dinner with your parents. I'm having to get creative to find things he can wear.” She looked a little hopeful as though she wanted him to go instead, but knew it would be a disaster for the two to go. Arko had to be watched to keep him out of trouble when out on errands. That's why she knew she couldn't take him and shop for a dress at the same time.

“It can't be that bad. Those clothes he has on seem fine.” Nolvo was grasping at straws now. If there was any way to get out of the hole he was in, he'd take it.

She glared at him and brutalized a pepper. “We're lucky Earwen lets me have first dibs on her broods' hand me downs. The shoes were Aikanaro's and are a little too big. I have a suspicion that the jeans were Artanis'. They fit almost right, but there is something about they way they're made. The tag is missing so I can't be certain. That shirt was his sister's before her own growth spurt.” She cast a meaningful glance at her chest. Their little girl was growing up and her wardrobe was an early casualty. “Do not tell him he's wearing girls' clothes. Please. If you value my sanity.” Her husband had lived up to his name and wisely gone silent. She continued. “Sunday, Earwen and I somehow agreed to go hiking with your sister. I suppose I could try to find something at lunch Monday.” She knew it was too late to get out of it, so she'd have to figure out something.

“I swear it seems like we just bought him new clothes.” Nolvo looked thoughtful.

“We did, four months ago, then, he had that growth spurt and that was that. He's going to be the tallest, I think.” Anaire put some oil in a pan and set it on the heat.

“Really? My money would be on Turno.” Their eyes met. “I'll get the jar.” He got and pulled the empty peanut butter jar from the back of one of the top cabinets they used to hold their long-term bets. He felt a pang of guilt at betting on the kids, but they had been doing it since Finno was small. He pulled out a blank piece of paper and wrote their picks down. “How much? Twenty?”

“For as long as we'll have to wait? Make it fifty.” Her smile made him gulp as he wrote. It might be a decade before they knew for sure, but something told him he'd already lost. 

Placing it in the jar, he looked quickly through the others already in it. “Hey, you owe me ten.”

“For what?”

He practically skipped over to her and held it out. “And how do you figure that? Irisse is only thirteen.”

“It says 'Be the first one to cause a fender bender'. It does not say they have to be driving. That guy hit a lamppost to keep from hitting her bike, because she wasn't watching the turn lane.” The two had been terrified at the time, but now all Anaire could do was point to her purse on the counter.

“I was sure it would be Fingon. Turno is too cautious and the others were too young, I thought.” Her husband went to collect his prize with a kiss.

“Irisse is too impatient, but we love her for it. Especially right now.” He snapped the bill and made a great show of putting it in his wallet. A loud, angry shriek echoed through the house. “Speak of the angel.”

The door to the garage flew open and the sound of Argon running came loud and clear with his sister's own footsteps on his heels. “YOU'RE DEAD!”

Their parents exchanged a look, but Arko was running past them and out the back door before they could move. Their daughter followed in a flash of fury, dripping something purple and sticky as she passed. It was already staining her white shirt and there was death in her eyes. She was out the back door after Arko and only paused long enough to snatch the bat her father had left leaning against the porch.

“I'M GONNA KILL YOU!” She took off after her little brother brandishing the bat and her father rushed after her.

Anaire started turning off burners and moving things off the fire. This was going to take both of them to straighten out. Curious, she dipped her finger in a drop of the substance that had dripped of Irisse. It smelled sweet and of grape. It was very sticky and starchy between her fingers.

Fingolfin returned leading their son by the arm with one hand and a liberated softball bat in the other. “He was experimenting with water balloons and used his sister as the guinea pig. I think grounding him for two weeks, with no TV, and making him clean up this whole mess should be enough to make him show better judgment next time he thinks of something like this.”

“What about my bike?” Irisse complained. She'd been doing her regular maintenance on it, just like her grandfather taught her, when she'd been ambushed.

“He will wash it, your tools, and the car as part of cleaning up the garage.” Nolvo gave his wife an exasperated look. She'd have to take a peek at the garage and see the carnage for herself.

“What was in it?” It was best to know before she started trying to save her daughter's clothes.

“Water, flour, and grape Kool-Aid.” Her youngest son had been looking at his shoes ever since he'd been brought in.

“Arakano, why were you experimenting with water balloons?”

“Me, Aiko, and some other boys were going to have a water war and...”

“Never mind. Get a mop and sponge and get to work clearing this up. All of it, including the drips from your sister. It's 'Aiko and I'.” Anaire waved off her menfolk and cast an appraising look at her budding teenage daughter. “You. Go upstairs. Take a long shower. Not too hot. I will bring you an old towel that won't get hurt if it stains and get your clothes to wash before it sets.” She had to set her jaw to rein in the passing amusement at the idea of her daughter's unruly hair being starched. 

Irisse tromped off upstairs, still fuming, and Anaire hurried off to the garage, grabbing her camera as she went.

The garage was a mess. Arko was up on a step stool washing what she thought were footprints off the car. She snapped a few pictures as she deciphered the scene. He must have climbed up in the car and ambushed Irisse as she was on the floor with the bike. The white bicycle that her in-laws had gotten her daughter was as splattered as its owner. 

She shook her head as Nolvo smiled at her and whispered. “You should have seen her out there. She will make some boy a terrifying wife someday.”

Anaire chuckled at Irisse's temper, but something about his words rang false. “I'm going to take her up some towels and call Earwen to give her a head's up in case Aiko tries his own experiments.”

“At least, he isn't foolish enough to test them on his sister if he does. For one thing, Artanis is taller than him at the moment.” While her brothers would likely outgrow her someday, since there was so little age between the four, the youngest and only daughter of Arafinwe and Earwen's brood was the tallest for the moment simply because of the way girls mature faster.

“That didn't stop Arko. Besides only a fool tests Artanis' patience.” Even at twelve, their niece had a tendency to unsettle people. She kissed his cheek and went back inside. She grabbed a few of the old white towels set aside for this sort of thing and picked up the phone, dialing a long memorized number.  _I wonder if she'd go with me Monday. I could use a second set of eyes and an unbiased opinion._ Two rings until it picked up with a familiar voice on the other end. “Hey, Earwen. It's me. I thought I'd warn you...” The two settled into a brief, easy conversation in the lull between swirls of chaos. It was just another Sunday afternoon for the Finweans. 


End file.
